


Sweet Young Things

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chocolate, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Relationship(s), Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacques and Constance run an exclusive little chocolate shop in London. D’Artagnan starts off as a thief but becomes an employee and part of the family. He pines very annoyingly after Athos, Aramis pushes his luck, Porthos teaches Constance a card game or two. It’s a living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Young Things

 

 

D'Artagnan was staring out of the window again. Constance threw a chocolate-covered Brazil nut at him, laughing when it accurately bounced off his head. D'Artagnan startled and then glared at her, grabbing a handful of chocolate buttons from the nearby display to throw back. Unfortunately for him, Jacques, Constance's husband, appeared from the back of the shop at that very moment and caught him in the act.

 

“You weren't disturbing one of my masterpieces, were you?”

 

D'Artagnan dropped the handful of buttons reluctantly. “She started it.”

 

He both sounded and looked exactly like a petulant child. Constance resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Instead she raised her eyebrows disapprovingly. Jacques looked at her.

 

“I take it he was mooning again?”

 

Constance nodded and plucked a chocolate-covered Brazil nut from a nearby display to pop into her husband's mouth. He hummed in approval, amid d'Artagnan's loud outrage.

 

“I thought you didn't want your masterpieces disturbed?”

 

Jacques gave him a look. “She knows what she's doing. And she was working, not mooning.”

 

Constance kissed her husband, enjoyed the melted chocolate flavour that she was granted as a result. Perfect. Jacques smiled at her softly, d'Artagnan was still complaining.

 

“I wasn't _mooning_ -.”

 

He cut himself off when the door opened and Athos strode in. Jacques raised an eloquent eyebrow and Constance pressed her lips together, muttering quietly just under her breath. “Of course you weren't.”

 

D'Artagnan didn't protest, he was too busy looking at the well-built charismatic man stood in front of him. D'Artagnan's expression could only be described as adoring while Athos' gaze was fixed for the moment on some peanut brittle.

 

Jacques and Constance headed for the shop's back rooms and kitchen. There was fudge to make while d'Artagnan hung onto Athos' every word and then forgot to charge him full price for anything. It happened every time Athos visited the shop. Constance would watch them on the shop's close-circuit television, she enjoyed the blackmail material and making d'Artagnan blush. She grabbed a sugar mouse on her way past the box and smiled when she heard her husband's footsteps quicken behind her. He'd always enjoyed the taste of pink sugar on her tongue.

 

*

 

Constance and Jacques had met at culinary school. He had been the best patisserie chef in their class and had clearly known it. Constance had thought that he was very handsome and even more insufferably arrogant so she'd made sure to kick her own baking skills into high gear until she'd begun to regularly achieve the same grades as him. He'd been tense and snippy about it for weeks after until she'd asked him to try her tiramisu after class one day.

 

“Don't grade me,” she'd warned him, not completely playfully.

 

He'd eaten a spoonful and when he'd gone back for more, Constance had invited him out for dinner. Neither of them had cooked that night, instead they'd enjoyed steaks and delicious mustard-mash at a local restaurant. They'd talked at length about what they would have put on the dessert menu. Jacques had revealed that he'd planned on opening a high-class chocolate and sweet shop once he'd graduated and had spent some time training in France. Constance had liked the sound of that and had ended up training alongside him. They'd married a year after graduating and had baked their own superb wedding cake.

 

D'Artagnan became part of their lives years later. They'd opened their shop in London and had found themselves a loyal core of repeat customers and were soon making enough money to consider the venture not only viable but successful. D'Artagnan had run into their shop one day to escape the police, carrying a bag full of stolen food. When he'd kissed Constance in an effort to hide his face, she'd shoved him away and had slapped him so hard that he'd actually stumbled. D'Artagnan had then run off but he'd returned the next day to apologise and to steal a box of wine-flavoured sugar jellies along with a large bag of salted chocolate. Constance had grabbed him and had marched him straight into the kitchen, threatening to drown him in the caramel barrel. D'Artagnan had apologised profusely and desperately while Jacques had dialled 999 with a great show of disapproval. As a scrupulously law-abiding citizen, Jacques wasn't tolerant of those who weren't, especially when they tried stealing from his shop.

 

In the end, the police hadn't been summoned because d'Artagnan had persuaded Constance and Jacques to take him on as a shop assistant instead so that he could pay back what he owed them. He'd told them the heart-rending story of why he'd been in London in the first place. It'd sounded like something out of a very bad melodrama involving d'Artagnan's efforts to make his dead parents proud, but it'd all turned out to be true. D'Artagnan had really seemed to want to make a fresh start and after he’d proven himself to be an excellent salesman, Constance had allowed him to move into the small apartment situated above the shop. She and Jacques lived in a nice house within driving distance, the fruits of their labours after living above the shop when they couldn't afford anywhere else.

 

D'Artagnan had turned out to be a good trustworthy tenant; even Jacques had had to concede that when d'Artagnan hadn't stolen anything and had consistently sold an impressive quantity of merchandise. Constance had watched him work and had noted how easily he'd charmed people, he'd been genuinely interested in their lives and people had liked talking to him and since he'd liked making people smile, it'd generally worked out well. He'd been a little clumsy and had knocked into things more than once but most people had found his enthusiasm endearing. Jacques had always deducted the cost of any breakages from d'Artagnan's wages.

 

Before the end of d'Artagnan's first month working at _Bonacieux's_ , he had become part of the family. He'd also met Athos.

 

*

 

The bell above the door jangled and a couple of familiar-looking customers strode in. D'Artagnan was out on his lunch break so Constance stepped forward to serve them. The younger one leant on the counter with an engaging smile and his identity suddenly clicked into place, Constance had spied the two of them through the window more than once, talking to the object of D'Artagnan's affection. Athos had seemed very comfortable with them and considering how much he usually held himself back, that said a lot.

 

So Constance was intrigued when she asked if she could help them. The larger dark-skinned man looked around in what appeared to be a state of disbelief.

 

“This is a _serious_ amount of chocolate.”

 

Constance's smile widened. “That's the idea. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

 

The younger fair-skinned man's smile broadened in a way that made Constance want to slap him. She got enough comments from smug-looking men already, usually describing her as the 'sweetest-looking thing in the shop.' She braced herself for more of the same.

 

“Something refreshingly different, and more of your lovely smile too of course.”

 

Constance's expression hardened just a fraction and she held up her left hand, displaying her beautiful engagement and wedding rings. “We have some exceptional chilli-chocolates freshly made today and I'm exclusively unavailable.”

 

The dark-skinned man laughed and held out a hand for Constance to shake. “Magic. I'm Porthos, this is Aramis.”

 

“Forever wounded by your rejection,” added Aramis, a hand clasped over his heart though he didn't look all that hurt or angry.

 

Constance nodded, firmly shaking their hands. “Constance Bonacieux, co-proprieter. You're Athos' friends.”

 

That got their attention. Aramis leaned across the counter very obviously as though hoping to persuade her to tell him her secrets.

 

“Did you break Athos' heart as thoroughly as you just broke mine?”

 

It was the sort of thing that usually made Constance grit her teeth, but there was a comical twinkle to Aramis' expression that invited her to share in the joke. Aramis could take a hint it seemed and was now being outrageous without any expectation behind it. That she could appreciate.

 

“He's a very loyal and regular customer here. He likes our peanut brittle and our sweet selection tins.”

 

She gestured to a large stacked display. In days gone by, glass jars would have contained the kinds of sweets that were traditionally weighed out into paper bags for eager fingers, things like rhubarb and custard, liquorice allsorts, and chocolate pennies. Jacques had come up with a twist on that - a varied selection of those kinds of sweets presented in little tin boxes designed to look like an old-fashioned sweet shop. It was a taste of childhood, a considered nostalgic gift for someone special.

 

Athos occasionally bought one of those tin boxes. Constance was almost sure that he did it to see d'Artagnan stretch up for the spares on one of the higher shelves. D'Artagnan did look good when he concentrated hard and worked harder. He worked out regularly at the local gym which was where he'd met Athos in the first place.

 

Aramis and Porthos both looked very interested. They were dressed in tracksuits, Aramis in grey and Porthos in black with orange piping. They probably worked at that gym with Athos; maybe they wanted to know why he so often wandered into this expensive little shop. Constance had wondered how Athos could afford his sweet habit, though she had her own private suspicions. She’d noticed the quality of his clothing and his distinctive signet ring. But that was his story to tell and no good ever came of prodding in painful dark corners without permission, Constance had learned that the hard way a long time ago.

 

She smiled at Aramis and Porthos' expectant looks. Oh no, she wasn't going to serve up d'Artagnan's name. He was already distracted enough by Athos' presence, he’d probably be even worse if Athos' friends started hanging around too.

 

“And that's all you're getting, gents,” she told them firmly.

 

Aramis quickly grasped her hand and held it as though he was going to kiss it though stopped himself when he saw Constance's darkening expression. “You're hard work.”

 

Constance yanked her hand back and pointedly looked down at Aramis' empty left ring finger. “Apparently I'm not the only one.”

 

Grinning, Porthos bought a small box of chilli-chocolates – their boss' birthday was coming up, he explained, and he wanted to get the man something unexpected. The packaging looked like a Fifties fire-engine which would definitely work for their boss seeing as he actually used to be a fireman. Porthos thanked Constance for her help and told her that she'd definitely be seeing them again. Aramis bowed to her with a smile that made her roll her eyes as she went back to counting stock.

 

When she later told Jacques about her encounter with Athos' friends, he didn't look very impressed, which was understandable. But, she reminded her husband, they now knew something that d'Artagnan didn't which provided them with great ammunition. Jacques' expression changed quite dramatically after that.

 

*

 

The first time that d'Artagnan had mentioned Athos, Constance had been distracted by a recent bad supplies delivery. She'd been on the phone for hours on end, attempting to get it sorted. She hadn't paid much attention to d'Artagnan's starry-eyed expression until the next day when he hadn't stopped going on about a man called Athos that he'd apparently met at the nearby Treville's Gym. Constance had teased him for his cliché meet-cute and d'Artagnan had taken it all very well, his expression soft and wondering even as he'd snorted at some of what she'd said.

 

The thing was though, Constance hadn't taken d'Artagnan's crush seriously because for the first two weeks that d'Artagnan had worked at the shop, he'd had the most awkward and inappropriate crush on _her._ At first Constance honestly hadn't noticed because she'd always been busy and d'Artagnan had been learning the ropes so she hadn't thought anything of it when he'd asked her for more help and had stayed at her side most of the time. However once his looks had gotten more lingering and she'd caught him trying to put her lessons to good use in the kitchen, she'd had to say something. He'd been trying to make some mint chocolates, her favourites, but at the time he hadn't really had the training and the resulting chocolate disaster had been kind of adorable. Then it’d been awful because Constance had had to sit him down and explain very firmly that while she counted him as a friend, she was very happily married to Jacques and that that wasn’t going to change.

 

D'Artagnan had looked utterly dejected and had watched her with wounded eyes for a few days, especially whenever he’d seen her beside Jacques. He'd also told her that he couldn't understand what she saw in her husband. Jacques was a perfectionist and could be a snob but he was also more than that and she loved every inch of him. Constance didn't expect anyone else to understand.

 

Thankfully, d'Artagnan's crush on her had rapidly disappeared once he'd opened his eyes and found other people to throw himself at, thankfully more appropriate people than his boss' wife. Soon after that he'd met Athos, thank God, and that crush had stuck until it wasn't a crush anymore.

 

*

 

D'Artagnan was getting better at creating sweets. He now made very good coconut fudge and thick walnut toffee. His work wasn't as refined as Jacques' or Constance's but it was good enough to sell and that said a lot. Athos often bought something that d'Artagnan had handmade. He was always complimentary to Constance about her work too and talked at length with Jacques about how he created new recipes. Like d’Artagnan, he was genuinely interested in people, even if unlike d’Artagnan he didn’t always seem to enjoy socialising.

 

Constance liked Athos, she got the feeling that he actually liked her company, that he wasn't just being polite. She’d learned the different between his blank secretly-pained politeness and his genuine relaxed pleasure, he rarely smiled but there was a vital difference between his moods which he’d allowed Constance to learn. There was something very straight-backed about him and according to d'Artagnan, Athos lifted a lot of weights and did an insane amount of cardio. He was clearly dedicated, maybe obsessive, and he didn't like talking about himself. Constance never pushed him, even though she did sometimes catch a glimpse of a melancholy look on his face. D'Artagnan had noticed that look too and always looked a bit despondent about it. He had told Constance confidentially that Athos occasionally had trouble with a very problematic ex-girlfriend who had to be met to be believed and who refused to leave his life quietly if at all. Constance hoped to meet her one day; a world of sins could be hidden in an innocent-looking chocolate box.

 

“Do you think he'd like some liqueur chocolates?” d'Artagnan wondered aloud one day.

 

Constance was halfway up a ladder, rearranging an erstwhile shelf of coffee-creams. She glanced down at d'Artagnan. “I thought you said that he drinks enough as it is?”

 

D'Artagnan sighed. “Yeah, he does. I just...do you ever want to do something for Jacques just to make him smile?”

 

Constance smiled slightly in reply, remembering a cold day at the beginning of her relationship with Jacques when he'd had a string of bad days so she'd set about baking him an apple pie. Something simple and hearty, nothing like the delicacies they’d been working on in class, in fact the pie was a complete antidote to all that. She'd served him up a large slice, nodding towards a jug of thick homemade custard. Jacques had stopped being so morose and sure of his inevitable failure for a while after that. She still made him apple pie when she wanted to lift his spirits, he made her crème brulee.

 

D'Artagnan easily read her expression and pointed. “See? I want to have those memories, not-.”

 

The door opened and Athos himself walked in. Constance could hear Aramis and Porthos laughing outside. They'd become as much a part of the everyday life of the shop as Athos had. Aramis was currently on the phone, he blew Constance a kiss when his gaze hit hers. Constance arched a deeply unimpressed eyebrow and Porthos just gave her a salute. He always made her smile, corralling his friends and telling her stories that she always looked forward to hearing. He'd also promised to teach her a couple of new card games when he next had an afternoon free. Porthos was definitely her favourite.

 

Aramis always vehemently protested this, Constance always told him that she already had one teenager under her feet, thank you very much, and that was the only position he was fit for. He seemed to enjoy such barbed banter and continued to flirt with her as easily as most other people breathed. Constance didn’t take offence anymore and neither did her husband though he did charge Aramis double whenever Aramis pushed it too far in front of him. Aramis always duly paid up and usually treated Jacques with only slightly mocking respect though always sincerely complimented them both on their chocolate wares.

 

Athos was d'Artagnan's favourite of course, he walked softly around the shop gazing at everything carefully. He often seemed to be at a loose end, Aramis had confided that it was a good thing Athos had found somewhere to spend time that didn't serve alcohol. Apparently he'd been barred from several pubs in the area and their boss Treville didn't want to be called up by another irate bar owner.

 

Treville visited the shop now too, he was a man with a very blunt commanding air who'd initially just wanted to check that his employees hadn't been causing trouble. Constance had assured him that she could handle them and after seeing how she'd dealt with d'Artagnan juggling something precarious, Treville had agreed with her. Now he came in to buy their luxury marshmallow treats for his wife and jellies for his kids, he also visited to catch up with both Constance and Jacques. They usually made him a very good bitter coffee that his employees never got offered, much to their annoyance.

 

“He earns it,” Jacques pointedly told Aramis and Porthos one day.

 

They both protested but did admit that their boss worked ridiculous hours with very little reward so he'd definitely earned himself some luxury. They worked very hard too though.

 

“Yes, you do,” agreed Constance. “Which is why you're allowed in the shop in the first place.”

 

“Don't touch the masterpieces,” added Jacques sharply when he saw Aramis' hands twitching towards an elaborate display of chocolate dates.

 

Aramis immediately acted as though he would have never even dreamt of touching the display though also lobbed out “We have to work hard because you keep fattening us up.”

 

“You keep paying for the privilege,” Constance pointed out, switching on the coffee-maker.

 

*

 

Despite how bolshy he was, d'Artagnan seemed to be inordinately shy about saying anything to Athos about how he actually felt. Surely he could see that the main reason Athos kept coming back to _Bonacieux's_ was d'Artagnan himself? Apparently not.

 

“He _is_ an idiot,” Jacques stated frankly when his wife mentioned the situation.

 

Constance elbowed him but she was smiling too. “And yet he's family.”

 

Jacques looked comically horrified, and it wasn't all for effect. “Please tell me you didn't adopt him without running such a terrible idea past me first.”

 

Constance grimaced, she was sure that d’Artagnan had been the kind of child who'd prematurely turned his mother’s hair white. She shook her head. “He’d be a brother at best, a very trying younger brother.”

 

Jacques nodded as though that was acceptable and Constance watched as d’Artagnan stared at Athos and Athos stared at d’Artagnan and somehow they managed to miss the other's frequent glances. Porthos caught her eye and raised a look skywards as though beyond frustrated himself. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the glacial pace of this development. If Aramis had an opinion, he was keeping it surprisingly quiet.

 

But one day, when Jacques was out personally delivering a large quantity of chocolate goods to the Mayor of London who had a sweet tooth and an interest in their shop, Constance watched as d’Artagnan offered Athos a strawberry chocolate cream, made from a new recipe that d’Artagnan hadn’t attempted until now. It was a delicate process and he was clearly nervous as he held out the chocolate. Athos held his gaze and then dipped his head to delicately eat the sweet right out of d’Artagnan’s hand. D’Artagnan’s expression curled with heat, Athos’ gaze was just as hot.

 

Constance smiled, snapped a silent picture with her phone, and melted away into the back rooms. Maybe glacial was a good pace for them after all or maybe Athos and d’Artagnan were actually further along in their courtship than anyone had actually guessed. The cunning bastards.

 

When Athos left the shop and d’Artagnan headed into the kitchen, he found a grinning Constance waiting for him. She nudged him affectionately and didn’t promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone. Of course she’d be telling Jacques and d’Artagnan knew it.

 

“So what’s his favourite cake?” she asked innocuously.

 

D’Artagnan’s smile was slow and full of secrets. Just what else had he been up to? When Athos' birthday arrived, she helped d'Artagnan make a white-chocolate cake with cream-cheese frosting, covered in white chocolate shards and white birthday candles. She saw Athos’ hand curl around d’Artagnan’s. Porthos and Aramis’ eyebrows shot up in response, so she wasn’t the only one floored.

 

She saw how pleased Athos’ small genuine smile was, it was very affecting seeing as he was celebrating his birthday in the back room of a small but admittedly exclusive chocolate shop. He could definitely afford grander but he’d apparently just wanted this. Constance gave him a couple of books that they’d talked about recently and ceremoniously made him a cup of very good coffee. Athos bowed his head as though very honoured and pronounced it one of the best coffees he’d ever had. D’Artagnan looked flushed and pleased and like he didn’t know what he wanted to do first. As long as he did it out of sight above the shop, then he could do what he liked.

 

Jacques kissed Constance's neck, like the best kind of promise, and presented her with a spectacular pink sugar mouse. Constance leaned into her husband and bit off the mouse’s head.

 

_-the end_


End file.
